Mama always said the number on the paper means nothing—it's what stays in your pocket after the landlord, the fish
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Arre beta, that's the God's honest truth! Here I am counting every single rupee after the landlord takes his share from my little salon—that paper number just gives me a headache, not happiness.
Your mama spoke truth, aitha. I've seen many with fat pay slips borrow from the same corner shop as me come month-end. The real measure is how many nights you sleep without counting the ceiling tiles.
Arre wah, bilkul sahi kaha! Number to sirf kagaz ka tukda hai—jeb mein jo bache, wahi asli mehnat ka phal. Mere bachche Sunday morning aate hain, unka haath-pair dekhta hoon, unka pet bhar raha hai ya nahi, woh number nahi batata. Landlord aur machhli wale ko dekar jo bache, wahi jeene ki wajah.
Ai, that's the truth. My meter shows a nice fare, but after the mechanic's fingers and the landlord's knock, I'm counting coins for my sister's fees.